


March Words 9: Rhetorical

by Siriusstuff



Series: March Words [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boss Lydia Martin, Ficlet, Flash Fic, Fluff, M/M, Office Setting, Ogling, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: If Stiles would stop appreciating the new guy's assets maybe he'd get some work done.





	March Words 9: Rhetorical

**Author's Note:**

> For day 9 of the March Words prompt list: https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/171412546721/drabble-me-march
> 
> The word is "rhetorical."

Drawn magnetically, irresistibly, as the new guy passed by, Stiles’s eyes lingered once more upon the finest backside he’d ever seen.

“Oh god,” he sighed, not softly enough as it turned out, “that ass is gonna kill me.”

_“Stilinski!”_

Stiles flailed, emitting a sound not associated with any species in the animal kingdom apart from human and in particular from him, to see Lydia Martin unexpectedly close, her arms in their customarily crossed position.

“I’m meeting Marketing at 2:30 and I want those reports compiled and on my desk no less than an hour before—which appears unlikely if you require twenty minutes to recover each time Hale’s posterior enters your field of view.”

 _Hale, Hale_ , Stiles’s memory recorded while his mouth stammered, “I don’t—I wasn’t—”

“You _did_ and you _were_ ,” Lydia corrected him.

Stiles’s understanding of propriety rarely aligned with the norm. Thus he proposed, “My focus would definitely improve if I could get his number or—”

“I will provide. No. Such. Thing,” Lydia admonished, icicles nearly precipitating out of thin air.

At that moment Hale re-entered the area, errand boy and _go-fer_ being items in his job description for the duration of his initial training period.

Sadly, so far neither of those obligations had brought him anywhere near Stiles’s desk, only past it.

“Good morning, Derek,” Lydia greeted, her tone immaculately poised between pleasant and professional.

Derek returned the greeting and smiled in addition, which Stiles had never seen from that particular, advantageous angle. Before Stiles could get over _that_ , Derek smiled _at him,_ convincing Stiles he would die, in a radiant burst of resplendent light, but die nonetheless.

“Stilinski,” Lydia intruded into his reverie of immolation as Derek went back whence he’d come, “get those reports complete and to me and if you’re finished by 12:30, you might go to the commissary, where a certain new employee has been taking his lunch every day since he was hired.”

“You’re a goddess!” Stiles blurted out, because his mouth and brain had never had a solid working relationship.

“Please,” Lydia countered. “Hyperbole is not your strong suit. You’re much more persuasive pathetic.”

She turned away, ice crystals glinting in her wake.

“Thank you!” Stiles called after her, because, really, what else could he say?


End file.
